


No Time Like the Present

by Wikketkrikket



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drug Withdrawal, Insanity, M/M, Past Drug Use, Superfamily, Superfamily (Marvel), Time Travel, wibbly wobbly timey wimey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 07:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17893748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wikketkrikket/pseuds/Wikketkrikket
Summary: In 1952, Peggy wakes up to find her husband deeply distressed, something about a 'mistake' and someone called 'Tony'.In 1935, Steve forces Bucky into some weird promise, and he's not sure what's going on with his friendIn 1991, Tony wakes up in rehab as his somehow-living father tries to get him off drugs.In 2018, Peter Parker finds himself living with a different name on the other side of the country; 40 years after Captain America killed most of congress.Something is very wrong with time and they need to find a way to put it right. But even if they can, the question is - will Steve want them to?





	1. Chapter One - 1952, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is... dark. I normally write very light and fluffy stories, but this is about as far from that as I am ever going to get! For which reason I say now it may not get written to completion. I'm bad enough at updating as it is, and I have to be in a very specific mood to write depressing stories! So we'll see. 
> 
> A note on the structure - this is my first attempt at something non-linear! I'm going to write and post scenes in the way I think it will unfold the story best; but each actual chapter will be posted in several parts as and when the time period changes. I think it will be easier to keep track of that way, and if I ever get to the end I think it might be fun to try reading them in chronological order, haha. 
> 
> Okay, here we go!

Chapter One

 

_1952, Part 1_

 

Peggy was woken by the sudden jolting of the mattress as next to her Steve flung himself upright. It wasn't quite as unusual a happening as she would have liked, but she supposed this was the price they paid for the things they had seen and done during the war.

'Are you alright?' She asked, quietly, sitting up to turn on the lamp. He stared at her, visibly pale, looking shocked.

'Peggy?' He whispered, his voice strained and confused. She reached out and stroked his back.

'That's right,' she said, encouragingly. 'I'm here. You're safe at home.'

Steve said nothing. He was blinking rapidly now, staring round at the room as if he had never seen it before. Not completely awake, then, whatever terrors had been tormenting him still clinging on. She could feel him starting to shake beneath her hands.

'Come on now,' she said, as soothingly as she could manage, gently pushing on his chest. 'Go back to sleep. Things will feel better in the morning.'

Unresisting, still looking bewildered, he lay back down beside her. Peggy turned the lamp off and fought her own tiredness, hoping to hear the settling of his breathing that would mean he had gone back to sleep. Instead, not quarter of an hour later, she felt him rise and slip quietly out of the room, heading downstairs.

She let him go. Sometimes Steve just needed space.

When, however, she awoke again as dawn was breaking and found the bed still empty beside her, she began to get a little concerned. It must have been a bad one. Peggy pulled a robe on over her night dress and headed downstairs to look for him.

He was in their lounge, standing by the crowded mantlepiece, looking at the photographs displayed there. There was their wedding photo and Bucky's, a picture of Steve's Commandos team, an old portrait of Steve's father in his uniform in a shared frame with a very similar one of Peggy's brother, photographs of their families, of memories, of special days and events, of VE day, VJ day, and all the rest. Steve always looked at them when he needed to be cheered up, but it obviously hasn't worked this time. He glanced at her with eyes that were blood red and sore, puffed up with crying, then looked down at the floor, saying nothing.

'Steve,' Peggy said, trying not to sound as alarmed as she felt. 'Tell me, what is it? What's wrong?' On instinct, she went to him, wrapped her arms tight around him. At first he tensed, and she thought he was going to pull away, but then he started to shake again.

'I... I...' he got no further, falling into sobs so severe that it was better described as a wail of pain, hurt so deep that the sound of it broke Peggy's heart. She steered him onto the settee, holding him close, trying to hold him together. She had never seen him like this.

He was too distressed to speak, unable to tell her what was wrong, though between his gasping sobs she gathered it concerned someone called _Tony_ , and something Steve had done, a mistake he had made, and now all was lost. Perhaps it was shell shock, Peggy thought, a hysterical, nervous attack over something that had happened years ago, a comrade lost in the war. She didn't dare let go of him long enough to get him a brandy, and doubted the alcohol would have any effect anyway. The other thing was, she supposed, to slap him; try and shock him back to reality, but he was crying so brokenly in her arms that she couldn't bear to give him any more pain. So, wondering if she really was acting in his best interest, she let him cry, holding him tightly, stroking his back and his hair, trying to ground him.

Eventually, he started to get control of himself, whispering apologies between shaking breaths. Peggy's already broken heart shattered again.

'Don't apologise,' she said, desperately. 'Just tell me what's wrong.'

'I... I made a mistake,' Steve said, his voice thick with fresh tears, but he suddenly pulled away from Peggy, sitting upright and away from her at the far end of the couch. 'And now I've ruined everything. I've lost someone and I'll never see them again.'

'Oh, Steve,' she said, reaching out for his hand; but he moved his away before she could take it. 'I'm sure it wasn't your fault. And you mustn't lose hope, not if... is this person still alive?'

'Not yet,' Steve muttered. Peggy didn't have the heart to ask what on Earth he meant. Steve took a few more deep, juddering breaths, wiped his eyes with his hands, and got up.

'I need Bucky's address,' he said.

'What?'

Steve said nothing.

'You know where he lives. On 4th Avenue. Number 212.'

Steve nodded. 'Thanks,' he said, and headed for the door. Peggy climbed to her feet too, catching his wrist.

' _Steve_. Please. I'm worried about you.'

'I'm sorry. I just need to see Bucky.' He couldn't meet her eye.

'Will you come back?' Something in his expression made her ask. He hesitated, but nodded, so she let go and watched him walk out of the house.

She hoped she hadn't just made a big mistake.

 

***

 

Chaos reigned at the Barnes household, as usual. It was no mean feat, getting six kids ready and out the door for school at the same time, with two more too young to go getting underfoot and in everyone's way. They weren't _technically_ all Bucky's, only a few had his chin or Clara's eyes, but what was he meant to do? Leave a kid out on the street after their Pa didn't come home from the war and their had Ma passed; or let them go into care somewhere in a neighbourhood where nobody knew them? Or let them starve for food or love in a house somewhere where they weren't wanted? Not on his watch. The Barnes would take in anyone who needed to be taken in, end of discussion. Even if the neighbours complained of the noise, and made nasty comments about him and his wife just because she was the one going out getting a wage, or worse, made veiled remarks about the kids, just because they had the black ones and the white ones living together as family. Shock! Horror! Scandal! Ugh. Bucky had bigger things to worry about, especially at this time of day. He'd managed to get them all out into the front yard, nearly to the gate, but Katherine's braids just wouldn't go _right_ , something which she unfortunately cared deeply about, claiming she wouldn't go to school until they were fixed, and Edward and Enoch had just run back into the house for about the fourteenth time giggling wildly, and now the baby was awake and starting to cry for his bottle from inside.

Steve appeared in the midst of all this, standing by the fence and watching what was going on, waiting to be noticed. He looked like shit.

'Steve, good,' Bucky said, brusquely. 'Go round up the stragglers, would you?'

Steve looked a little startled, but nodded. 'How many are you missing?'

Bucky swept a critical eye over the garden, completing a head count. 'Three,' he decided, returning his attention to the braids.

A few minutes later Katherine's hair was as neat as it was ever going to be (not very), and Steve had chased Enoch and Edward back out, and they'd found Jane in the bedroom and persuaded her to put down her book and put on her shoes, and eventually had waved the whole gaggle of them off, ignoring the tuts and huffs of the other parents on the street. So the Barnes kids weren't the best turned out, and yes, maybe brushing Katherine's hair in the front garden had been a little odd even for them, but they were loved, and they were good and kind, and Bucky wouldn't have changed a thing about any of them.

'Come on,' he said to Steve, who had been oddly silent throughout the whole procedure. Normally he was as bad as the kids, racing around with them and getting them overexcited. Today, he had barely done more than smile and say goodbye. 'I need to give Tim his bottle.'

'You have a lot of kids,' Steve remarked as they went into the house and Bucky scooped Tim up from his crib, settling the squalling child against his shoulder.

'Barnes men don't fire blanks.'

Steve snorted. 'Uh-huh, and how many are actually yours?'

'All of them,' Bucky said stubbornly. 'Just some of 'em came along older than others.'

Steve managed a tense, tight smile. 'Well, it's good to see you so happy, Buck.'

'Yeah,' Bucky said, finishing heating the milk and sitting down to give it to Tim. 'Why aren't you?'

Steve looked at him, his face set in a too-neutral expression of polite confusion. His eyes gave him away, still red, redder even than when his Ma had died. He looked like he hadn't slept since the war.

'Peggy called me,' Bucky explained. 'Said you were coming. Said you were upset. Who's Tony, Steve?'

Steve clasped his hands in his lap and stared at them, as if he needed to see his interlocked fingers to remind himself how to hold things together.

'No-one,' he said, but his voice sounded strained. 'You don't... you don't know him.'

'How?' Bucky demanded. 'Steve, we've been like brothers since the day you were born. I know everyone you know; least I thought I did. So, who is he?'

Steve didn't answer. Instead he reached into the pocket of his coat, and pulled out a gun, old army issue. He set it down on the table with a click.

'Need you to look after this for me,' he said, unable to meet Bucky's eye. Bucky nodded, didn't say anything, because what was there to say? They'd all been there. He left Steve with the baby in the kitchen, took the gun, and buried it deep in his back yard. There were some things you just didn't want your kids to find.

 

 


	2. Chapter One - 2018, Part 1

_72 hours earlier. 2018, Part 1_

 

'Dad?'

Tony didn't even look up at the sound of Peter's voice. The kid was almost seventeen now, sensible enough to keep away from anything in the lab that looked sparky or likely to explode, and patient enough to wait for Tony to finish the bit of armour he was welding before moving out of the doorway. Normally, anyway. Today, Tony could see him in his peripheral vision, shifting nervously from foot to foot. He turned off the blow torch. The plating could wait.

'What's up, kid?'

'It's...' Peter trailed off, worried, and Tony's brain began to throw out various panicky explanations. _Peter had got someone pregnant. Peter was on drugs. Peter had been thrown out of school._ It was only by the grace of God, really, that none of these things had happened before. Tony hadn't exactly been the best father. Peter was a result of a one night stand, and for the first four years of his life Tony had been content to take a back seat to the mom and step dad, sending money and gifts when he managed to remember Peter existed. His visits had been rare and brief. It was only after Mary and Richard had died so suddenly, and Peter had gone to live with his aunt and uncle, that he had started trying to be involved more regularly; but even then he could have done a hell of a lot more. Maybe if he had, Peter wouldn't have lost everything again when his aunt and uncle died when Peter was only eight. It was only then, when Peter finally came to live with him, that Tony had realised the little boy was the best thing that could ever happen to him. It just sucked that it had taken a tragedy to make him see it.

Tony had learnt from it though, determined not to miss out on any more love in his life, and when Steve had shown up he'd fallen in love quickly and completely, taking things slowly only for Peter's sake. Eventually, though, he'd confessed how he felt, he and Steve began dating, fell more in love, and now they had been married two years. It felt like things had finally come together. Tony had never been happier. Except now something was wrong with Peter. Tony's chest was starting to grow tight.

'Are you okay?'

'Yes, yeah, no-one's hurt, everyone's fine, it's just...' Peter bit his lip, but this time powered on. 'They've found some lost recording. A radio transmission of Steve's, from the forties.'

Okay, they could deal with that. Steve always got a little grumpy when they had to work through a media circus, but unless he was saying _I love Hitler_ or something similar it would be nothing they couldn't handle.

'It's actually from the day he crashed the plane,' Peter said. 'It's him, well, it's him saying goodbye to Peggy. It's this super private conversation, but it's all over the internet, Twitter's blowing up with it, and I just – Steve is going to freak out, Dad, this is going to really upset him.'

'It's okay,' Tony said automatically, even though he wasn't sure it was yet. 'We'll work it out. Jarvis, where is Steve?'

'Approximately one-third of the way through his usual run, sir.'

'Can you send him a message? Tell him everything is fine and no-one's hurt, but ask him if he can come home right away.' Tony hoped that they could avoid Steve realising what was happening until he was safely home. It was going to be hard enough for him to hear it from them; it would be worse if he came across the recording unexpectedly.

He couldn't help wondering, in the back of his mind, exactly what the recording contained. He knew about Steve and Peggy, of course. The one kiss. The date that never was. Back when he had first met Steve, Steve had still been getting over it; the relationship that had never had the chance to get started. Peggy was Steve's road not taken, and Tony had learnt to be okay with that, but still. Still. It was horrible of him, but he desperately wanted to know what the recording contained, what Steve had said. Had he told Peggy he loved her? At the same time, no, he definitely didn't want to hear it. He wavered in indecision.

'Have you listened to it?' He asked Peter.

'Some of it,' Peter said, blushing a little. 'It started autoplaying. I turned it off when I realised what it was. It's Steve's business.'

'You're a good kid,' Tony said, ruffling his hair. For once, Peter didn't swat him away. 'Don't worry, okay? It'll be fine.'

It wasn't fine. Once Peter had gone to wait for Steve in the lounge, Tony couldn't resist. He went to Twitter, and sure enough Captain America was trending. Everyone was saying how it was _heartbreaking_ and _so romantic_ and how Steve _loved her so deeply_. Tony snorted at that. Steve and Peggy had barely gotten started. Steve had married him.

Peter was right. It was Steve's business, and he shouldn't listen to it. Except that they needed to know what they were dealing with, didn't they? And it really was everywhere. Sooner or later he'd hear it whether he wanted to or not.

So justified, Tony clicked the recording and there was Steve's voice; the audio quality crackling and popping, an uncanny reminder of just how far Steve had come. The recording kicked in at the end of a sentence, just as Steve said '-dead'.

'What about the plane?'

'That's a little bit harder to explain.'

Tony listened to the whole thing, right until the awful moment when Steve's radio cut off. Then he listened to it again, and again, even though it hurt, even though as much as he knew Steve didn't die that day – he had the wedding ring to prove it – it really felt like it. It was, as Twitter said, heartbreaking. And romantic and all the rest that he didn't really want to think too much about. It was also, as Peter had said, deeply private. Tony rubbed a tired hand over his face. He had no idea how he was going to break this to Steve.

In the end, though, he didn't have to. Because he'd muted Jarvis to listen to the recording, and was just hearing it for the sixth time when Steve's voice – his real life voice, not covered by crackles from seventy years ago – said, 'Tony?'

Tony whipped around. Over the sound system, Peggy invited Steve to go dancing.

'What is this?' Steve asked.

'Steve...'

'How did you get this?' Steve demanded. 'Turn it off!'

Tony did so. 'Sweetheart,' he said, looking at Steve's hurt, angry expression. 'It's going to be okay. We'll find out how they got it and sue the pants off whoever gave it to them and in a couple of weeks everyone will have moved on to the next thing. Or I can just do something really big and stupid right now and take the spotlight off you. I always kind of wanted to try skiing down the Grand Canyon. I bet if I wore the armour-'

'Tony!' Steve said. 'Are you saying this is _public_?'

'Pete didn't tell you?' Tony went to him, took his hand, trying to be reassuring. 'Honey, I'm sorry. Yeah, it's online. It's kind of everywhere. But it's going to be okay, we'll handle it.'

Steve was quiet for a minute, pulling a hand roughly through his hair, looking haunted. 'And you _listened_ to it?'

'Wait, that's what you're angry about? Steve, everyone's heard it!'

'Then _everyone_ should know that it was a private moment between me and Peggy and damn well none of your business!'

'I'm your _husband_ , I want to help, and that means knowing what we're dealing with.'

'Bullshit! You say it's public knowledge, there must be headlines and write ups, you didn't need to _listen_ to it, to let me walk right in here and hear the worst moment of my life-'

'Worst moment? Since when has that been the worst moment?'

'Since it put me on ice for seventy years!'

'Which brought you _here_! Brought you to me!'

'And took me away from everyone I ever loved! Just because in the end it worked out okay-!'

'Worked out 'okay'?! Everyone you ever loved?! Gee, Steve, that makes me feel so special!'

'That's not what I meant!' Steve huffed in frustration. 'Why do you always do this? You have to twist everything and make it all about you - '

'I wasn't! It wasn't anything about _me_ until you started saying you never actually loved me!'

'That is not what I said! This is exactly what I mean!'

'What, are you still in love with Peggy? What am I, a consolation prize?'

'I need your support, Tony, now isn't the time for your ego!'

'Fine. Then just tell me one thing. If she was here, young, pretty, ready to go ease those regrets of yours; would you? Would you choose me or her?'

Steve's jaw set stubbornly, and Tony knew then that Steve wasn't going to answer the question, and everything that silence would mean.

'This isn't fair, Tony. Right now I need your support, not whatever this is.'

Silence reigned for a few seconds, and Tony had just opened his mouth to say – something – to apologise, to – when Jarvis interrupted them.

'My apologies sirs,' he said, 'But there is an urgent call for assistance from the NYPD.'

'What is it?' Steve asked.

'A plane has just crashed into the street a few miles away.'

'Shit,' Tony said, 'How many casualties?'

'Currently unknown, sir. However, the officer stated that eye witnesses declared that the aircraft came _from nowhere_.'

'So, out of the sky.'

'No sir, reportedly the sky was clear until seconds before the plane crashed.'

Steve's shoulders sagged. 'Starting to see why they called us.'

'There's more, Captain. The plane is believed to be a Mitsubishi A6M Rei-sen.'

Somehow, that fact made Steve looked more confused than the idea that a plane had suddenly winked into existence and crashed into a city street. 'You mean a Zero? From the war? From Pearl Harbour?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Well,' Tony said. 'Today's just going great so far, isn't it?'

 

***

 

'Everything good, kid?' Tony asked.

For once, the fight wasn't so much as fight as it was crowd control. The WW2 bomber, complete with confused Japanese fighter pilot, had been quickly followed by the horse and cart of a terrified milk man from the 20s, and then by an entire building that according to Steve had been a law firm at the turn of the 20th century but disused in his childhood and eventually demolished in the early 30s. It was also, unfortunately, full of lawyers. Between the contemporary New Yorkers fleeing and the confused time travellers panicking, the place was in so much chaos they had called in the other Avengers to help try and keep things under control whilst they tried to work out what was going on.

Peter, who as Spiderman was what Tony called an _Apprentice Avenger_ had been sent to guard the perimeter and keep anyone else from coming into the area. The fact he was calling made Tony think that Peter had very much not done that.

'Dad!' Peter's voice came through sounding breathless. 'It is! I mean, it isn't, it's bad, maybe really bad-'

'Wait, where are you?' Tony demanded. 'Are you swinging? Kid, how many times, land before you call, if you get distracted -'

'I'm sorry, it's just this bird, it keeps trying to go back there, I think the other one must be it's mate or something, I'm just trying to get it far enough away!'

Tony could feel a headache coming on. 'Can we just skip to the part where you tell me what's happening?'

'It's like, super weird,' Peter said. 'I tried getting the cops to evacuate people but, you know, they were all like _go home kid_ , and I was like _dude, I'm a superhero_ , and they were like _save it for Halloween_ so I'm just trying to keep people away from the rift, but that means I can't go in and check it out properly-'

'Rift? What rift? You found the rift?'

'Ah, hold still, hold still little guy, nearly there!'

'Peter. Put down the bird and focus!'

'Yes sir Dad, I'll put it down just in like one more block. Oh, sir?! Sir, Ma'am?! You can't go that way! Ma'am! Stop!'

'Peter,' Tony said, in the most authoritative tone he could. 'Gotta give me something to go on, here, kid.'

'Sorry, Dad, got to go, but just come check it out? Please? Okay thanks!'

With a last distressed squawk from the bird, the line cut off. Tony went back on comms to Steve and sighed heavily.

'We need to go?' Steve asked, alert.

'I think so. He said something about a rift. Though I swear, if this is just about some damn _birds_...'

A few minutes later they had travelled to the location of the call, and Peter, in his full Spiderman suit, was perched on top of a street lamp waiting for them.

'Okay,' Tony said, once they'd established Peter was alright. 'What is this about?'

Peter pointed up at the sky. 'Look,' he said. Tony and Steve looked. He was pointing at a bird, flying across the street a little way up from them.

Tony blinked at it, then rounded furiously on Spiderman, who had hopped down to ground level to join them. 'I thought you said it was a _rift_ , why did you call us all the way back here just to-'

'Iron Man,' Steve said, pointing back at the bird. Reluctantly he turned back and saw the same bird flying across the street – from the same point it had started from before. As he watched, he saw what Peter had meant. The bird, some sort of seagull, was flying no more than a few yards before it would suddenly reach a certain point in the sky and disappear, only to reappear back where it had begun and repeat the process. Over and over again.

'Okay, so what are we looking at here?' Tony asked, squeezing Peter's shoulder in apology. 'Some sort of time loop?'

'It's not just the bird,' Peter said, shaking his head. 'That's just what's easiest to see. There's all sorts of crazy-pants stuff going on over there. Not just time loops, all sorts of time disruptions. Things getting old and rotting and coming back again. Time moving faster or slower. And... more stuff is coming through.'

Steve looked worried at that. 'Please tell me I'm not about to have to fight a dinosaur.'

'That's not what I mean... I guess I don't mean more things, I mean... voices. You hear stuff...'

Peter's voice was getting quieter and quieter, and Tony didn't like the sound of it. He turned away from Steve slightly, putting his back between Cap and the kid.

'Hey, hey, Spiderman. It's okay. We'll fix it. Just tell me what you mean. Voices?'

The kid nodded. 'I heard... I heard my Uncle. His last moments. When he died.'

Peter was trying so hard to sound strong and heroic, but the way his voice creaked at the end made Tony's heart ache for him. And then start to pound, because if this rift was capable of something like this _(targeted moments of recollection? Auditory hallucinations?)_ it could have the whole city in chaos by the end of the day. Never mind the odd plane or building crashing down on them, no-one wanted to re-experience their worst moments. His heart clenched,.

No time for that. He nodded. 'Okay, kid, thanks. Where did you hear this? Where is it all going down?'

'It's in a storage unit back there. I can show you.'

'No, nope, time for you to tap out. We'll find it. You stay here and keep guarding the perimeter.'

'Dad, come on.'

'That was an order, Spiderman,' Steve said, in his most blessedly Captain-America-esque voice. 'We need to investigate without civilians getting into danger. We'll come back to you once we've taken a look.'

Peter looked to Tony, who nodded and waved him away. Spiderman sulkily took up his position on the lamppost again, and the two Avengers headed down the road.

'Do you think this is how they got the recording?' Steve asked as they walked, his shield raised and ready. 'That it came through this rift thing?'

'It'd be a bit of a coincidence if it didn't,' Tony shrugged. 'Though how voices through a rift turned into an audio file on the internet I don't know. Look, Steve, about earlier-'

'It's fine.'

'No, it wasn't, it was childish and cruel. You needed me and I was more interested in being jealous.'

Steve smirked at him. 'I kind of like you being jealous,' he said. The teasing tone didn't reach his eyes, and Tony knew he was still hurt, but if he wanted to flirt Tony wasn't going to stop him.

'No, no,' he said. 'We don't romanticise jealousy, Cap. That's a short cut to an unhealthy relationship.'

'So what are you going to do?'

'I'm just gonna have to make sure you never want to leave me, soldier.' They had reached the warehouse now. Tony knew it was the right warehouse because there was a daisy that had pushed its way through a gap in the slabs outside, and it was growing and dying and rotting and then growing and dying and rotting over again. That was new. For a moment they stood and watched it.

'We'd better go in,' Steve said. 'See if we can work out what this is all about.'

'Right,' Tony agreed. 'No time like the present.'

 

***

 


	3. Chapter One - 1935, Part 1

_1935, Part 1_

 

The rest of his body was freezing, but Steve's throat and his chest were burning, as if all the heat from his body had been sucked to just those two places. It made it painful to breathe. The air felt like lead weight in his lungs.

'How is he today?' Someone asked, quietly. Steve knew the voice. Bucky.

'Better, I think,' his mom replied mildly. 'You must be hungry, let me fix you something.'

'Oh, no thanks, Mrs R. I just came by to drop these off, my ma said I can't take no for an answer. It's just some bread, milk, eggs.'

'Thank you, James. And thank your mother.'

'It's no trouble. I'll call in tomorrow, see if he's ready to get his lazy butt back to work.'

His mom laughed, and Bucky left. Steve lay in bed, feeling the gut wrenching feeling of shame and guilt wash over him, way more painful than whatever was wrong with him this time. He was the man of the house, he ought to be the one taking care of his mom, and yet time after time they ended up relying on Bucky. It was bad enough that his mom insisted on him going to art school, so his only income came from the jobs he could fit around class while she worked every hour under the sun; it was worse that he was so damn sickly that he'd wind up stuck in bed a few weeks every winter, not doing anything.

He tried to go back to sleep, willing himself to escape the shame, to get better, so he could get up tomorrow, be _useful_ tomorrow, when he suddenly realised that this was all wrong. His eyes flew open.

It was his old room. 'Room' was a strong word; it was more of an alcove with a door, originally intended to hide the boiler that was plumbed into the wall at the foot of his bed. The door was standing open, letting him see out into the lounge. It was a view he'd seen a thousand times growing up, but not one he had ever expected to see again.

Tony had been wrong. This shouldn't have happened. Steve should have been on ice, not home.

The word suddenly struck him. _Home_. He was home. He was back. And he felt like crap.

Steve allowed his body to sink back into the exhausted sleep it so obviously needed. Maybe when he woke up, things would make more sense.

 

 

 


End file.
